


Jesus Wept

by Anonymous



Category: Original Work
Genre: Dependence - Freeform, Dublin - Freeform, Epistolary, F/M, Past physical abuse, Seattle, i feel like there's a lot more i can tag this but i just wanna get it up, idk - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-19
Updated: 2016-12-19
Packaged: 2018-09-09 18:15:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 949
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8906860
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: A series of letter that aren't meant to be read.





	

Andrew –  
And maybe this is a bit melodramatic, but when I dropped you off at the airport, a piece of my heart crumbled. 

Andrew –  
Seattle is a cold place. However, it is even colder without you as my furnace. 

Andrew –  
The sun is shining. I walked outside (god knows why), and I felt actual heat on my skin. The sky is a real cerulean blue. It’s fucking beautiful outside. It’s days like this where I am filled with vitriolic hate. 

Andrew –  
Excuse yesterday.  
It’s just that when I moved to Seattle, the constant barrage of “Seattle? It’s dreary there” “The sun never shines” and there was even the hushed whisper of the d-word. But the thing about depression is that it’s fuel to writers. The things that I have turned depression into have won me awards. But when it’s sunny, I am reminded that the default goal of humans is happiness. And I’m reminded that you aren’t here. And I’m reminded that fists kissed my face before you did. And I’m reminded of words that scorch.  
And I hate.  
I hate everything.  
I hate him.  
I hate my parents.  
I hate my friends.  
And for a quick, shameful moment, I hate you.  
And then the sun sets, and I take a shower, and the poisonous vitriolic hate washes down the drain. 

Andrew –  
My pillow stopped smelling like you. Jesus weeps.

Andrew –  
Sometimes – and this is shameful – but when I’m so lonely that I can feel physical aches for you, I turn on my iPod and sit and imagine that instead of music, it’s your arms that embrace me. 

Andrew –  
I truly believe it is one of God’s good graces that you will never read this. Still, I almost burn in shame when I put pen on page, but then I remember it was you who taught me that shame is a cultural construct, and I laugh. 

Andrew –  
I have writer’s block today. Fuck you. 

Andrew –  
Destiny isn’t real.  
I mean, I used to think that it was fucked that no matter what you’re doing, your end has been determined. But I can only think that there is no other reason for you in my life except by some higher power. 

Andrew –  
Leslye says I’m annoying her. To demonstrate her point, she made a graph today that includes the percentage of things I talk about. You won by an overwhelming majority. 

Andrew –  
I had one of those dreams last night. You know the type. I wake up, and I’m restless. My skin aches, like somehow, I’m back there. I’m back underneath his hands. Last night, they were wrapped around my neck. I could have sworn that I couldn’t breathe. (I checked this morning for that familiar necklace of bruises. Nothing.) But that isn’t the scary part. I’ve lived through that. I’ve (mostly) moved past that. But that isn’t what leaves me breathless. It’s that, somewhere amid his anger, he pulled me to him and he pressed kisses to my cheeks like apologies. And when I look up again, feel terror coursing through every vein, it’s no longer his face. It’s yours. This is the scariest part. He never scared me. I mean, I was scared of course that one day the whiskey or the smell of sour bread would bring me toward my end, but since I’ve been a child, I’ve built a wall between him and I. You came into my world like a flash of lightening. So fast, and so quick, and so sure that to build a wall would be pointless. He swung wrecking balls at me, but I’ve come out relatively unscathed. If you were to do the same, you would destroy me. 

Andrew –  
Leslye pulled me out my house today and took me hiking. When we came back, three feet from her car was a bear. It was you, wasn’t it?

Andrew –  
There are two distinct periods in my life. Before you. And after you. They're both great for different reasons, and the opposite is just as true. However, in the Before Andrew phase of my life, I slept in the middle of my bed. Even with you on another continent, I sleep on the left side. My cat hasn’t stopped pawing at the sheets on the right. 

Andrew –  
My mother called today. I think of your hands pressing the red button, and I do the same. 

Andrew –  
FUCK TIME ZONES. 

Andrew –  
I read through all these today. I sound like a dependent mess. I swear I’m not. I do things, I swear. It’s only in my weakest moments that I pull out this ragtag scrap of confessions. I’m a regular person most of the time. 

Andrew –  
You have the shittiest laugh I’ve ever heard. I love it. 

Andrew –  
There was a thunderstorm last night. Fuck you.

Andrew –  
In two hours, I’m on a plane to Dublin. God is good. 

“I wish you would let me pick you up from the airport,” Andrew says into the phone.  
“Nope,” she says with a pop. “This is an exercise in independence.”  
Andrew laughs, and she sends a quick prayer to his Irish ancestors for making something so beautiful. “Independence is gonna get you killed.”  
“I wouldn’t be American if it didn’t,” she quips.  
“I don’t care about your nationality. Just get your ass over here.”

It doesn’t happen like it does in the movies.  
There isn’t a deer in headlights moment. She isn’t looking at the car as it rams toward her. She’s looking ahead of her, so near him that it’s vibrating in her blood. She’s banging on her steering wheel, singing a Christmas pop song that’s so awful it’s amazing.  


And then it hits her.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading, fellas.  
> Give a girl some feedback for Christmas!


End file.
